Three Drops of Blood
by WillowDryad
Summary: There are no ghosts in Narnia. Or are there?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.**

THREE DROPS OF BLOOD

Part One

Lightning cracked, illuminating the lashing rain, making their upturned faces stark white for a startled moment, and then leaving them in hearth-and-candle-lit dimness as the thunder crashed after it. The wind moaned and howled through the turrets and through the dark forest beyond the walls of Cair Paravel, and there was an almost-winter chill in the air.

Edmund smirked. Lucy was pressed close to Peter as they sat there before the fire, huddled under his arm with her little fingers twisted into his tunic.

"What a storm," Edmund said, feeling something of the wildness of the night running through his own veins. "You know, Lu, I bet it was on a night like this that Princess Raine was taken by the Nameless Horror."

"Stop it, Edmund," Susan said from Peter's other side, her lips pursed. "You've been teasing Lucy with that story for days now. It's not funny."

"But it's true," Edmund protested, making his eyes wide and innocent. "I read it in one of those really old books in the library."

He chuckled to himself when, at another clap of thunder, Lucy ducked her head against Peter's shoulder, and Susan moved closer to Peter as well, her blue eyes round and her lips trembling despite her scowl.

"You're just making it up, Edmund," she said sternly. "What was this Nameless Horror anyway?"

"Well, if they knew that, it wouldn't be nameless, would it." He saw a glimmer of laughter in Peter's eyes and forced himself not to laugh, too, instead keeping his face a picture of innocent concern. "I just wanted you girls to know about it. You know, so you won't be its next victim. When you're alone in the middle of the night and everything. I won't tell you what it did to Princess Raine, but when her father found her body, his hair turned pure white. Overnight. And they say the Princess herself still walks the corridors of Cair Paravel, driving mad any who see her ghost."

Keeping his eyes on them, he slipped his hand down to his hip under cover of the table where he sat and, with a subtle movement of his dagger, made a loud, slow scraping noise against the wood.

"What was that?" he gasped.

Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "Peter, I'm scared."

Peter hugged her close and gave Edmund a look that told him pretty clearly that he'd better cut it out. Then he kissed her hair.

"It's all right, Lu. You know Eddie likes to tease."

"There are no ghosts in Narnia," Susan snapped, and now she was hold ing onto Peter's arm. "There are wraiths and goblins and boggles and efreets and all kinds of other horrible things, but no ghosts. So just stop talking about it, Edmund. You're not funny."

"Pardon me, My Queen." Oreius, the Centaur General, made a slight bow from the far side of the hearth. "But there are ghosts in Narnia. At least there were."

Again the lightning flashed, leeching the color from his dark skin, making his dark eyes albino white and eerily unfamiliar. The boom of thunder covered the soft clop of his hooves as he moved closer to the Kings and Queens.

"I do not wish to frighten any of you, but perhaps it is best you do know the true story of Princess Raine."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly, Oreius. There isn't a true story of Princess Raine. I just made her up."

Oreius merely gave him a disdainful, "you foolish colt" look, and Edmund bit his lip.

"Didn't I?"

"Perhaps you read something about her some while ago and forgot about it, My King, and then remembered the name later and borrowed it for your story."

Edmund considered for a moment. He didn't remember reading anything about this Princess. But he had read a great many old books in the two years since they'd been here in Narnia, and he wasn't really sure now where he'd gotten the name Raine. Made it up, he'd thought until tonight.

"And just what is this _true_ story?" he asked with a stubborn lift of his chin.

"I have heard it from my father's father," said the Centaur, "who had it from his father's father. They say Raine was the great-granddaughter of the first King Frank and his Queen Helen. She was the youngest in her family and the apple of her father's eye. When she was but fifteen, little older than our well-loved Queen Susan, she was pursued by a lecherous old Duke, a man who had already married three times only to have each of his wives die under mysterious and horrifying circumstances. When he sought the hand of the Princess Raine, her father refused to even hear his suit, knowing the man was not fit for any decent woman, much less his own darling child. So the Duke waited."

"Waited for what?" Edmund half-whispered when no one else spoke

"For the cover of night and wind and rain," Oreius said, the crash and boom of lightning and thunder punctuating his words. "That night, in a storm as wild as this one, the Duke crept into Cair Paravel meaning to steal away the Princess as she slept. But the instant she felt his touch, she leapt out of bed, calling for her guard, telling the Duke she thought him vile and repulsive and that she would never have him. 'Then, dear Princess,' he said, 'you shall never have anyone else.' And before she could even say her prayers, he took his dagger and plunged it into her heart, leaving her dead there on her bedchamber floor."

"Oh, horrible," Susan breathed, and Oreius nodded.

"Three nights later, the Duke, sitting in the King's dungeon, awaiting execution for his foul crime, was heard to make a terrible wailing howl that was abruptly cut short. It took the guards but a moment to open the cell door, but when they did, they found the Duke had vanished, leaving behind him only one velvet glove stained with three drops of blood."

The lightning forked across the sky and again the thunder rolled.

"But where had he gone?" Peter asked. "He couldn't have escaped, could he?"

"I think not, High King," the Centaur said, his face grave. "For he was never again seen, but it was not so for the Princess. It is said that she is seen every fifty years, walking the corridors. Seeking her next victim."

Oreius did not say more. Peter and Lucy and Susan were perfectly still, their round eyes fixed on him. Edmund merely studied him, waiting for him to laugh and say he, too, had been making up stories, but Oreius only looked at him, the firelight casting foreboding shadows over the hard planes of his face. Oreius never joked.

Edmund crossed his arms over his chest. "And why would she do that? Especially if she already had her revenge on the Duke. That's a stupid story, Oreius. Your grandfather and his grandfather should have known better than to repeat such rubbish."

"My King–"

"Edmund's right, Oreius," Susan said, getting to her feet. "You shouldn't repeat such lurid tales. I don't want to hear any more about it. Come on, Lucy. It's time we both went to bed."

Lucy still clung to her oldest brother and chief protector. "No. Please, Peter, I'm scared. I want to stay with you." Her lower lip trembled. "Please."

Peter looked helplessly at Susan. "It's okay, Su. I'll make sure she gets to bed in just a little while."

For a moment, Susan said nothing, her mouth tight with annoyance, and then she huffed. "Fine. I'm tired."

"Are you sure you should go alone?" Lucy asked, a tell-tale quaver in her voice, and Susan gave her a stern look.

"Lucy, nothing is going to get me. That story was only a story, like the silly one Edmund told us. Now I'm going to bed, and I expect you all ought to as well."

"Perhaps I should send a guard along with you, My Queen," Oreius offered.

Susan shook her head. "I thought most of them had gone to the Harvest Festival tonight. Besides, it's not fifty feet down the corridor to my room. Thank you, but I'll be fine."

"Goodnight, Su," Peter said.

Edmund smirked. "Look out for Princess Raine."

Susan gave him a poisonous smile and then strode to the door, starting when, just as she touched the latch, the thunder and lightning roared again. Then she straightened her shoulders.

"Goodnight."

Once she had shut the door behind her, Peter turned to Oreius. "I don't know if you should have told her that one, Oreius. Not after she had so much trouble with that Terebinthian lord she had to turn down last month."

"I did not like to tell her, High King," Oreius admitted, his voice grave, "but I thought, especially on such a night, she ought to know. You all should know and be wary."

Edmund narrowed his eyes at the Centaur. "Why this night?"

"The storm, My King. The Princess Raine is always seen on nights when the wind howls and the storm rages. And since the last time she was seen, it has been–"

A shriek split the night, and Peter and Edmund both leapt to their feet.

"Susan!" Peter cried.

Edmund dashed after him, down the corridor and to Susan's room. Lucy and Oreius were right behind.

"Susan!" Peter pounded on the door and then threw it open. "Susan, what–"

Lightning illuminated the dark room, showing it empty except for a strip of white velvet from Susan's dress, stained with three drops of blood.

**Author's Note: Well here it is, my very first Narnian Halloween story. I hope you'll let me know what you think and if you want me to go on. Many, MANY thanks to Lady Alambiel for brainstorming brilliance and for virtual cookies.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.**

Part Two

"Where's Susan?" Lucy clutched the scrap of blood-stained white velvet that was all that was left of their sister's dress, wailing with the howling of the storm. "It got her! The ghost got her!"

She threw herself into Peter's arms, sobbing and blotting her eyes with her handkerchief. The one Susan had embroidered for her.

Edmund frowned, glaring at Peter as he tried to comfort Lucy. "All right, you can stop this now, the lot of you. Susan! You might as well come out. I'm not falling for it. Peter, you should be ashamed. You're scaring Lucy. Come on, Susan!"

Peter shook his head, his blue eyes round and uncertain and absolutely clear. He never was much of an actor, and Edmund could always tell when he was pretending. This wasn't one of those times.

"Do you think she's hiding?" Lucy asked with a hopeful little sniffle. "Susan? Please come out."

She ran over and flung open the wardrobe door, but Edmund saw nothing there but clothes and shoes. Lucy's face fell and she ran back to Peter, crying again.

"Where is she? Please find her."

"Shhh." Peter hugged her close. "We'll find her, Lu. Don't worry."

All this while, Oreius had been searching the room, and Edmund joined him. They found nothing.

"There is no way out besides the door we came in," the Centaur said. "And if she had come that way, we would have seen her."

Edmund scowled. "I'm supposed to believe she was carried off by a ghost?"

"You know Narnia is full of strange wonders," Oreius said solemnly. "The legends usually contain a kernel of truth. I feared this would happen. The year and the storm, it was inevitable."

"What do you mean, the year?" Edmund asked, exchanging a fearful glance with his brother.

"As I told you before, it is said that Princess Raine appears every fifty years in Cair Paravel. But the last time was a hundred years ago. It was just after Jadis seized power and the Winter began. The Cair was still occupied then, though not many lived here. Fifty years later, the castle was empty, deserted but for ice and snow. If Raine appeared then, there was no one to see her, no one for her to carry off. I feared she would be . . . more than usually hungry this time."

Edmund swallowed hard. "You think she might– She might take more than one of us?"

Lucy started to cry again. "No! Edmund, it's not true. It can't be really true. Susan can't be–"

"Don't worry, Lu, we'll–" He looked at Peter and then at Orius. "What _are_ we going to do?"

Peter pressed his lips together and straightened his shoulders. "We're going to find Susan. She's got to be here somewhere. If she's not in this room, we'll have to search the rest of the Cair."

"I still want to know why this so-called Princess would want to grab somebody every fifty years," Edmund said. "Didn't she already have her revenge on the guy who killed her? What does she want now?"

"My King," Oreius began, "the legend says that–"

There was a boom of thunder, echoed by a loud crash in the corridor.

"Susan!" Peter cried.

He flung open the door, but there was only unrelieved blackness. The torches in the corridor had been put out. Edmund grabbed a candle from Susan's dresser and gave another to Peter.

"Come on."

"Peter," Luch sniffled, "I want to come, too."

"I don't know, Lu," Peter said. "You'd probably be safer if you stayed here with Oreius."

"We would all be safer if we stayed together, My King," Oreius said, taking up a candle himself. "Come along, Queen Lucy."

He put one hand on Lucy's shoulder, and the four of them stepped into the darkness, their three candles only a faint glow, showing them little of what was around them and nothing of what lay ahead. Edmund moved closer to Peter and wished Oreius wouldn't lag so far behind. Actually, the Centaur was scarcely two feet away, but it seemed a good deal farther. They had gone less than halfway down the corridor when Peter came to an abrupt stop.

"Did you hear that?"

The four of them froze, listening, and then Lucy squeezed in between her brothers. "It's– Oh, Peter, what is it?"

There was a faint scrabbling up ahead, barely audible over the whipping rain. Lucy's hand was gripping Edmund's bruisingly tight, but he was somehow glad of it. What was ahead of them?

Peter clenched his jaw. "Come on. Whatever it is, we'd better know for certain."

They moved forward in a tight knot, the scuttling sound sometimes near, sometimes faint and far away, but always ahead. Always drawing them on towards one of the little used parts of the Cair. Then when they reached the door to one of the towers, the sound stopped.

Edmund held his candle in front of himself, unable to see more than a little way ahead. For a moment there was nothing but the moan of the wind and the beating of the rain to cover their unsteady breathing, and then, almost too soft to hear, someone laughed.

Lucy caught her breath, gripping Edmund's hand even tighter and no doubt doing the same to Peter's. "Susan?"

"No," Peter breathed. "That wasn't Susan. I've never heard that laugh before. Have you, Ed?"

Edmund shook his head. "It, uh–" He used his sleeve to blot the sudden sweat from his upper lip. "It didn't sound human. Or at least it didn't sound alive."

Peter peered into the unrelieved blackness of the open doorway. "I don't think you can get up these steps, Oreius."

"Peter–" Lucy began, but Peter shook his head.

"You stay down here, too. Oreius will look after you. Come on, Ed."

Edmund gave Lucy's hand a little squeeze before he pulled free of her. "Don't worry, Lu. We'll be right back."

"It's all right," Peter assured her, kissing her hair, and then he nodded at Edmund and drew his sword. "Right then. Up we go."

Edmund unsheathed his own blade, comforted by the feel of it in his hand as he padded behind Peter up the narrow, winding stairs. Partway up, he glanced back to see Lucy's pale, anxious face in the white glow of Oreius's candle, and then he saw nothing but darkness above and below. He wanted to grab onto Peter's belt as he had often done when he was a very little boy and their mother had sent them up to bed, up into the darkness at the top of the stairs, but he merely held tighter to the hilt of his sword, steeling himself against whatever might be waiting for them above.

They both froze in the blinding lightning strike. And then, over the booming thunder, there again came that faint, unholy laugh. This time it was followed by a piercing scream.

"Lucy!"

Edmund dashed down the steps with Peter right behind him. He could hear a fierce struggle and then Oreius's cry.

"My Queen!"

"Lucy!" Peter cried almost shoving Edmund aside to get to the bottom of the stairs.

The corridor where they had left their sister was pitch black. Edmund held out his candle, squinting to see.

"Oreius?"

"Oreius?" Peter echoed. "Where are you?"

"Oh, My Kings."

They followed the Centaur's anguished voice a few feet down the corridor, their candles illuminating the place where he had bent down on his forelegs to reach something that lay on the floor.

"My Kings," he murmured again, and he handed Edmund a little embroidered scrap of white linen.

It was Lucy's handkerchief, stained with three drops of blood.

**Author's Note: Again, profound thanks to Lady Alambiel for brainstorming and for coming up with great solutions to my plot problems. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.**

Part Three

Edmund looked pleadingly at Peter. The blood on Lucy's handkerchief was fresh, still soaking into the woven threads.

He turned to the Centaur. "What happened? How did you lose her?"

"Forgive me, My Kings, both of you." Oreius lowered his head. "You know I would defend you or your sisters with my life. I– I am not certain what happened. We were waiting here at the bottom of the stairs. I still had my hand on her shoulder, meaning to reassure her in your absence. I was holding a candle in the other. There was a flash of lightning. My candle went out, and the Queen Lucy was torn away from me. I tried to hold her, but whatever it was was too strong. Stronger than anything mortal I know."

As proof he held up his arm. His leather wristlet was ripped almost through and half of the lacings had pulled through the eyelets.

The brothers exchanged a bewildered glance, and then Edmund looked once more at the stained handkerchief wadded into his hand. He shouldn't have told her that horrible story in the first place. He shouldn't have made her cry. Oh, Lucy.

Peter put one arm around his shoulders, no doubt knowing what was on Edmund's mind. "It'll be all right, Ed. We're going to find them. We are."

That otherworldly laughter came to them again, faint and mocking, and Edmund tensed. "What does she want, Oreius? Why is she doing this?"

"I cannot say for certain, My King. I can tell you only what the legend claims."

Peter tightened his grip on Edmund's shoulder. "And what is that?"

"It is said that the Princess Raine steals the life force of her victims," Oreius said, "seeking to one day return to rule here in Cair Paravel. She leaves the three drops of blood as proof of her presence and of her triumph and of her coming power. She was young when her life was taken from her, so she preys particularly on the young. Like your sisters."

Peter nodded curtly, now all High King and Narnia's Champion. "How do we stop her?"

The Centaur shook his head. "That the legends do not say."

Once more they heard that laugh, louder now and not far ahead of them. Then there was something else, something almost lost in the violence of the storm that battered the Cair. Someone was sobbing. The sound came from the same direction as the laughter, and Edmund lurched towards it.

"That's Susan! Peter, it's Susan!"

Peter glanced back at Oreius, and then held Rhindon up, using it to pierce the darkness before them. "Susan? Is that you? Lucy?"

He still had one arm around Edmund's shoulders, still held tightly to him, and his grip tightened once more. Someone was speaking now, pleading, begging. The words were too low and garbled to make out, but Edmund knew the voice.

"Lucy, where are you? Where are you?"

That scratching, scuttling sound came again, the sound of something creeping behind the walls, something seeking that gaping blackness ahead of them. But if Susan and Lucy were there, they had to go into it. Edmund lifted his sword, every nerve in his body racing with adrenaline, his breathing seeming to resonate against the stone of the Cair.

Oreius came behind them, a sword in one hand, a candle in the other, and his hooves ringing faintly on the marble floor. Edmund knew he was back there, but he had to force himself to not turn around to be sure. To be sure it was Oreius and not . . . something else.

The sounds rose and fell with the moaning, rattle of the wind. Edmund couldn't help wondering if he was really hearing his sisters. Perhaps it was just the storm and his imagination and the story of Princess Raine. But that laugh– Oh, no. That had been real. And that had not been Susan or Lucy either.

He stayed close to Peter's side, his candle and his sword before him until, at last, they came to the end of the corridor and to a closed door.

"Lucy?" Peter ventured, his voice betraying only the slightest bit of trepedation. "Su?"

He put his hand on the latch, and in response, there was utter stillness. The storm continued, but even it seemed to hit a lull.

"Lu?" he whispered, and he pushed the door open.

It creaked with rust and age, reluctant to move. The room within was pitch black and, again, utterly still.

"Susan?" Edmund called, peering into the darkness, his candle and his sword both at the ready.

Oreius came up behind him, bringing his candle close to Edmund's. The circle of light revealed a richly decorated bedchamber, lush tapestries and bed hangings of silk and velvet. Paintings of Fauns and Nymphs and Narnia's royal court decorated the walls, and a thick, heavy carpet lay upon the floor. It was the bedchamber of a noble lady. A royal one. A princess. But it was heavy with dust, draped with spider webs, rotted with damp and neglect. No one could have come into this room for decades. Perhaps not for centuries.

"Oreius–"

"Wait," the Centaur breathed, and then he moved noiselessly back to the door.

"What is it," Peter whispered.

Oreius listened for a long moment and then shook his head. "Perhaps nothing. I will keep watch here. This is the only entrance to the room."

Edmund waited a moment more and then brought his candle closer to the floor. "There hasn't been anyone in here before us. We left footprints in the dust, but there aren't any besides ours."

Peter nodded, and then he tugged Edmund's arm. "Bring that over here."

They moved to the corner of the carpet nearest the sagging bed. An irregular stain, large and almost black marred the intricate pattern.

Edmund bit his lip, trying to keep it from trembling. "Peter, that's–"

"My Queens!" Oreius shouted, disappearing into the corridor, his hooves clattering into the darkness, and the boys bolted after him.

"Oreius!" Peter cried. "Come back!"

"Oreius! Wait!"

Edmund clutched his sword, racing towards the quickly fading flicker of the Centaur's candle. Then the light vanished, and he heard Oreius gasp.

"No! Noooooooooooooo!"

"Oreius!"

Peter and Edmund ran towards the sound of the Centaur's struggles. Edmund tripped in the dimness, almost putting out his own candle, and Peter hauled him back to his feet.

"Come on, Ed!"

They turned the corner and came up against a locked door.

"Oreius!" Edmund pounded on the wood. "Oreius!"

"Oreius!" Peter called, looking around for any other way the Centaur could have gone, and then he caught his breath. "Ed."

Edmund brought his guttering candle over to where Peter was pointing. There on the floor was Oreius's torn wristlet, stained with three drops of blood.

**Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying this story. I would love to know what you think of it. If you'd like me to go on, please let me know.**

**Lady Alambiel continues to be vital in making this story fit for consumption. Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.**

Part Four

Edmund pounded on the locked door once more, his fists echoing the beating of the rain against the windows.

"Oreius! Oreius!" Panting, he turned to his brother. "He had to have gone through here!"

Peter looked up from his study of the Centaur's blood-stained wristlet, and then he handed Edmund the split piece of leather. "Move over."

He threw his shoulder against the door. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally there was the crack of old wood, and the door swung open. Edmund held his candle high, casting faint light into the dark room. It was silent and empty and had no other exits. And, as in the strange bedchamber they had found earlier, there was a fine layer of dust on the floor.

"No hoof prints," he said. "No one could have gone this way."

"Then where did he go?" Peter looked around and then took the torn wristlet back. "Or, I should say, where was he taken? Whatever got him was strong, and it was fast."

"What did he see?" Edmund asked, squinting into the darkness from where they had just come. "Was it the girls? Or was it a mirage?"

"He must have–"

Peter froze at the sound of that now-familiar laugh. It was still just barely audible over the howling wind and rolling thunder. And beneath that was the faint sound of weeping, the weeping of young girls, and the thud of what sounded like something or someone heavy being dragged across the floor.

"Where are you? Lucy! Susan! Oreius, can you hear me?" Peter's eyes were fear-filled, his face flushed, and he crushed the ruined wristlet into his fist. "They're gone. They're all gone."

Edmund forced himself not to tremble. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. If Peter was afraid, then there was definitely something to be afraid of.

"This can't be happening. Peter, it can't be true. I made her up. I made up Princess Raine to scare the girls. It wasn't real!"

"We're in Narnia, Ed. Things here are different from–" Peter jumped when lightning crackled across the sky, and Edmund could see his knuckles whiten as he gripped his sword. "Maybe there's a book in the library that will tell us what to do and how to stop all this."

"I don't remember anything like that."

"It must be there," Peter said. "How else would you have picked up that infernal name? You shouldn't have been teasing the girls anyway, Ed. Now look what's happened."

Edmund stopped, narrowing his eyes, studying his brother's face, hoping he looked more angry than afraid. "If this is a joke, Peter, it's gone way too far. Might as well tell me now."

Peter shook his head, face grave, breath unsteady. "You deserve it, Ed, for being so mean to Susan and Lucy, but I would never do that to the girls. Oreius–" He looked around, desperation in his expression. "Oreius never jokes."

"No."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, looking for something besides fear and panic on Peter's face. He was never very good at deceiving anyone. Still, just in case.

"Do you swear you don't know anything about this, Peter?"

Peter nodded rapidly.

"By Aslan?" Edmund pressed and he got the response he dreaded.

"By Aslan."

"Okay." Edmund swallowed hard. "Okay. Okay. We'll do what you say and see what we can find in the library. Maybe we'd better see who else we can find, too. I know most of them are at the Harvest Festival, but not all of them."

"Right," Peter said. "There has to be somebody around."

Edmund walked beside Peter down the corridor, his sword clutched in one sweat-slicked hand, the pale, wavering candle in the other. But at least he wasn't alone. Peter was with him, and they would figure out what to do. They would get out of this long-deserted wing of the castle. They would get more lights and more people. And they would find their sisters and Oreius and stop this Princess Raine no matter what it took.

"I don't hear them anymore," Peter whispered.

He was right. The storm still raged, but the mocking laughter, the low sobs, the dragging and the scrabbling sounds, they were not there now. Edmund paused, and Peter stopped beside him, both of them standing quite still, listening like deer at a stream. Then still very low, but louder and clearer than before, they heard the laugh. This time it was accompanied by the faint clop of horseshoes on stone.

"Oreius!" Peter shouted and an unfamiliar voice mocked back at him.

_Oreius._

Peter clenched his jaw, his face flint. "Show yourself!"

_Show yourself, _the voice repeated. _Show yourself. Show yourself_.

"Peter!" Edmund cried. "Over there!"

There was a flash of movement in one of the doorways, the doorway that led up that narrow, winding stairway they had been up earlier, just before Lucy had been lost. Peter and Edmund both lunged towards it. Peter was in the lead, but Edmund stayed right with him. He wasn't going to lose him now.

"Come out!" Peter demanded as he sped into the darkness, Rhindon flashing in his hand. "Come out now!"

Edmund ran after him. "Peter! Peter, wait for me! Don't–"

He broke off, ducking his head as something black and smothering poured out of that doorway. With the beating of wings, the candle flickered out, leaving them in utter darkness. Edmund reached blindly towards his brother.

"Peter! Where are you?"

"Ed! Edmund! It's–"

Edmund heard Peter's muffled cry and the clang of metal on stone. He scrambled backwards, sword in hand, fumbling for the flint and steel in the pouch on his belt.

"Peter. Peter!" Edmund froze where he was, listening, ready to spring, but heard nothing now. "Peter?"

He tried to spark a light and failed. The second time, the flame caught and he lit the candle once again.

"Peter?"

His hand began to shake as the flickering light gleamed on a length of polished steel. Peter was gone, but Rhindon lay abandoned on the stone floor, stained with three drops of blood.

**Author's Note: Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun! Now Edmund is alone. What will happen next? Stay tuned. Thanks again to Lady Alambiel for all her help.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: The Pevensies and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Similarly, Oreius belongs to Disney or Walden Media or whoever thought him up. Again, that person was not me. I own only a devious mind.**

Part Five

Edmund's fingers trembled as he reached towards the blade that glinted there in the light of the candle. Three crimson drops, gleaming like the polished steel, lay fresh upon it. They were warm, smearing when he touched them. Fresh blood. Peter's blood.

"Peter!"

There was only a skittering sound somewhere in the darkness and then a faint knocking from farther off.

"Peter!" Edmund cried again. "Where are you?"

Nothing. Nothing but the roll of thunder and the drumming rain.

He wiped his fingers and then the sword on his tunic. Then, sheathing his own blade, he took up his brother's. Rhindon was more than just a sword. It was a gift to Peter and to Narnia, and Edmund would not leave it behind. And perhaps . . .

"Hear me, Raine of Narnia!" He lifted the Lion-pommeled blade into the darkness before him. "In the name of Aslan and of Peter, High King of all Narnian Kings, I command you to show yourself."

He waited, hearing nothing but his own too-quick breath, and then, from somewhere at his back, came the merest hint of laughter.

He spun to face it. "Come out!"

_Come out_, the voice mocked. _Come out. Come out. Come out._

"What have you done with Oreius and my sisters?" he demanded, forcing his voice to stay steady. "Where's Peter?"

_Where's Peter?_

There was that skittering sound again and the sound of something heavy being dragged, of pounding and weeping and wordless pleading, and above it all, that hideous, taunting laughter. All of it swirled together in a growing wall of sound..

_Where's Peter? Where's Peter?_

Edmund covered both ears with his hands. "Shut up! Shut up!"

_Where _is_ Peter? Where are they all?_ The voice taunted him still, sing-songing the words from somewhere ahead of him, speaking _to_ him now, not just mocking. _Where are they?_

"Tell me!" He moved forward, still with only the quavering flame of the candle to battle the darkness. "What do you want?"

_Edmund. Edmund. Come to me. Come to me._ _Your blood, it is the last. The last I will need. Then I shall return. Come to me. You cannot escape. I have them all. They are mine and you are mine. Come to me._

All this while he had been creeping forward, down the dark hallway, down towards the relentless voice. He knew it now, where she was leading him. Inevitable. Inexorable. Of course she would be in the room they had been in before. Princess Raine's long-abandoned bedchamber. Now he was at the door, the door he and Peter had left open when Oreius was taken. Who had closed it? What was behind it? But the voice was coming from there, still calling to him, and he had to go in.

_Edmund. Edmund. Come to me. Your blood is mine._

His grip was so tight, Rhindon's hilt dug into his palm. The candle flame leapt and flickered in time with the shaking of his hand, and he feared it would go out and leave him in utter darkness. Still he stretched out his foot and eased the door open, trying not to flinch at the groaning of the hinges.

The shutters were open now, open to the driving rain, revealing a sky of impenetrable black and forked white lightning. And there before the windows, standing on the blood-and-rain soaked carpet, loomed a spectral figure, full ten feet tall, its hair and dress white and flowing and sheer as silk, dancing and fluttering like the billowing curtains in the howling wind. In its white face were two deep, eyeless black pits, and its laughing mouth was a gaping black hole.

_Edmund_! it shrieked, lurching towards him, reaching for him with both bloodstained white hands. _Edmund!_

He lunged towards it with a low cry, but his boot caught on the edge of the carpet, flinging him headlong, sending Peter's sword and the now-extinguished candle in opposite directions. He got to his hands and knees, scrambling backwards as the specter glided towards him. Still it called his name, still it mocked and laughed, eye sockets empty, mouth gaping. Rhindon was gone. He had to draw his own sword. He had to get to his feet. He had to–

There was a crash and clatter in the blackness and a blow to the back of his head and, after that, nothing more.

OOOOO

"Edmund."

Edmund squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, not willing to open them until his heartbeat slowed and his breathing was steady. A dream. It had all been a dream. Susan was right here next to him. That was her worried voice. That was her soft, cool hand on his forehead.

He let all the air seep out of his lungs, wincing at the pounding pain in the back of his skull and the total exhaustion throughout his body. He must have screamed and struggled in his sleep, and pretty violently, too, to bring Susan to his side.

"Are you all right, Ed?" she asked, moving her hand to his cheek. "Come on now. Wake up."

"Sorry, Su," he murmured, struggling to sit up. "I must have been–"

He choked down a scream as he opened his eyes. Leaning over him was that hideous face, stark white with two empty sockets where the eyes should have been and a gaping black maw of a mouth. He fought to get away from it, and it drew back from him.

"Oh, Edmund, no," it said. "Wait."

Someone grabbed his arms, holding him where he was. "It's all right, Ed. It's okay."

"Peter?" Edmund flung himself against Peter's chest. "Peter. You're–"

He peered around and saw Oreius and Lucy there, too, both of them looking concerned. And then–

"Susan." He blew out his breath, not knowing whether to be furious or relieved. "It was you! It was all of you all the time."

Susan bit her lip, looking guilty under the heavy black-and-white makeup. "We didn't mean for you to get hurt, Ed. You ran into that old suit of armor in the hallway there and knocked yourself right out." She took out her handkerchief and started wiping the paint off her face. "I guess we did get a bit carried away."

"A bit." Edmund glared at Oreius. "You and your 'true' story of Princess Raine, Mr. I-Never-Joke. And you, Lucy, with your 'Peter, I'm scared' all the time."

Lucy tried to look ashamed, but giggled instead. "You deserved it, Ed. You know you did."

"And Peter." He shoved Peter away from him. "You swore. You swore by Aslan."

Peter winced. "I know. And, really, Eddie, it was true when I swore it. I was as much in the dark as you were until I got dragged off and recruited to be the bottom half of Princess Raine." He laughed half under his breath. "Besides, I was about as scared as you were the whole time, and I didn't even do anything."

"You thought it was pretty funny for him to scare _me_," Susan reminded him. "Until Lucy got scared, too. But we couldn't tell you ahead of time. You'd have only given it all away."

Edmund shook his head. "Okay, you got us both pretty good. You three must have been planning this for quite a while."

"A couple of days," Susan admitted. "With the help of Mice and Bats and a few Squirrels to skitter around behind the walls and a Nymph to be the voice of Princess Raine."

"And the footprints? How did you not leave any footprints in those dust-covered rooms?"

"We added the 'dust' afterwards," Lucy said with another giggle. "Just a fine layer of flour from the kitchen."

Edmund huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, then he scowled at Oreius. "I would have thought that you at least were above this sort of thing. What did you tell me about 'adolescent antics'?"

"That they would come back to bite you one day." The Centaur's face was as calmly grave as always, but there was a hint of a smirk on his face. "I merely considered this good training for unexpected difficulties and well worth tearing one of my own wristlets. And it was a good reminder that you should not torment your sisters unduly."

Susan smiled smugly. "Not unless you want another visit from Princess Raine."

Lucy giggled, and Peter shoved Edmund's shoulder.

"Come on, Ed. Don't you remember what today would be if we were back in England?"

Edmund thought for a moment and then grinned. "All Hallows' Eve. All right then, you all win this time." His smile widened. "But just wait until next year."

**Author's Note: And there you have it, a spooky, fun tale for a stormy autumn night. I've always loved those creepy stories kids tell at camp, and I had a lot of fun cooking this one up. Lady Alambiel was a huge help as always. I think brainstorming with her was the most fun part for me. I hope you had a good time reading it. Do let me know what you think. This will probably be my last post for a while, but I'll be back when I can.**


End file.
